Little Bird
by Rachibert
Summary: Sara has a new boyfriend, and Grissom really isn't taking it well... Warning: This is not a love story, it's very dark.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I don't own CSI. Please don't sue me.

A/N: This is a GSR story, but not a happy GSR. I'm not going to be very nice to our favorite geeks, consider yourself warned. So no flaming about me being mean to them.

* * *

**Little Bird**

She brought it on herself. It was her fault he had to do it this way. He would make sure she knew it too, and tell her every day how it was all her own doing.

It all started one evening before assignments. Nick and Warrick were teasing her about her new boyfriend. Apparently she had spent the weekend with him at some secluded "romantic" inn and Sara came back with a partially glazed over look in her eye and a smile they couldn't smack off her face if they tried to. And boy, did he want to try.

The team, with the exception of their mighty leader, all seemed to be really happy for her. Catherine would notice her staring off into space and grinning like a fool while she drank her coffee, and Greg seemed really pleased with himself for introducing the two of them at some party he hosted a couple of months ago. Maybe if he had attended (or even really been invited to tell the truth, but Greg didn't think he would have come anyway) he could have stopped her from meeting this guy in the first place. But no, she had to go and mess everything up.

Now, Grissom is a man that likes everything to be in its place at all times. The absolute certainty of an insect's life cycle to the day, to the moment, was what initially drew him to entomology in the first place. The idea of a living thing so fixed in its actions by nature, with no free will of their own. Hatch, eat, mate, eat, die. He liked knowing that things would be exactly where things should be. Her dating someone definitely changed all of that. Now instead of sitting at home waiting for him to summon her, she was actually out enjoying herself. Or, in his mind, totally screwing with the order of the universe.

Her main role in life was to serve him, in his opinion. He snaps, she jumps. He calls, she drops her entire life and comes running. He had spent the last six years making sure it stayed that way; giving just enough of himself to keep her tied to him, while not enough to make her comfortable. That is how it is supposed to be. That's how it's always been. It wasn't supposed to change. But it did. Everything was suddenly off kilter.

He sulked for about a week, the knowledge of her not waiting for him to beckon her to his side slowly eating a hole inside of him. He was short with her, and he knew that she noticed, and so did the rest of them. While he walked through the hallways of the lab, he could hear conversations halting when he came near a door, all the eyes in the room looking straight at him when he came in. He didn't have to use many of his deducting skills to figure out what they were all talking about.

Night after night he sat in his office staring at the ever growing pile of paperwork that needed his attention. He hadn't even gone out to a scene in days, and they all noticed that the pile wasn't shrinking, and if anything it was growing. Finally, a few weeks after she came back from her little rendezvous, he realized what had to be done.

The next week was spent in making preparations and plans. His mood improved with the knowledge that he was going to correct the situation. He made sure he was pleasant with everyone, and made a point of telling her (where everyone could see and hear) that he was happy she found someone, he was happy that she was happy. It seemed to work: the whispering stopped, and conversations continued when he entered rooms. Things went back to normal as far as the lab was concerned.

He knew his plan was going to take time to execute properly. This kind of thing isn't the sort you rush; rushing causes mistakes and he couldn't afford any. He treasured his pain; keeping it close to him, studying it and polishing it, turning it from something hard and ugly into a beautiful piece of art. He made it his own.

A few months later, when he saw the sparkling diamond on her hand and Greg strutting around the break room like a proud father (he was taking complete responsibility for Sara's newfound happiness, since he did introduce them and all) he knew it was time to put things into motion.

Obtaining access to her bank accounts was a lot easier than he suspected it would be. He used the lab's computers, so in case anyone tried to trace the transactions it would be entirely plausible that she had done it herself. As her supervisor he had access to her login information, which made it a lot easier. He made sure to set up some accounts elsewhere in her name, namely in the Cayman Islands, to funnel her funds to when it was time. And it was time.

He put the necessary materials in the back of his car, and went over the plan in his head. Years of watching how other people did it had given him the background to really make it work. He knocked on the door, and stuck his hands in his pockets and tried to look as sheepish as possible for when she looked through the peephole. He knew she would be alone; "Sweetie" was away on a business trip and wouldn't be back for two more days. He had heard her tell Greg about the trip and knew that this was the perfect opportunity.

As soon as she opened the door with a questioning look on her face, he quickly pulled his hands from his pockets and clamped the handkerchief soaked in ether over her face before she could even ask why he was there. It didn't take long for her to stop struggling and go limp as he walked them both into her living room. He placed her still form on a wooden kitchen chair as he grabbed his bag from the hallway of her apartment building. Using soft rubber tubing, much like the kind they tie on your arm before taking a blood sample, he expertly and securely bound her hands to the chair by tightly wrapping and winding the tubing around her arm and the rungs on the back of the chair and tying it in an intricate knot between her shoulder blades before using the same method on her legs. Next he fastened a simple ball gag you could buy at any fetish shop over her mouth.

Then he went over to her computer, logged on, and transferred all of her banking information to the new accounts he had set up for her. He went through her other accounts, canceling her credit cards, turning off her phone service and other utilities, calling a charity to come pick up her car as a tax-free donation, typing up a resignation letter, even hiring a moving company to come to pack and ship her belongings to a warehouse paid for by a direct debit to the new accounts. He packed her toiletries, a few changes of clothes, and all the other things a woman never leaves home without for an extended amount of time in a small overnight bag. Then he wrote the necessary "Dear John" letter, explaining in the simplest terms that she didn't feel she was able to give him the kind of life he deserved, would never be a good mother, was freaking out over the prospect of commitment, blah, blah, blah and all that good stuff. He printed it, made out an envelope, and waited for her to wake up.

It took a little longer than he expected for her to wake up, but that just gave him a chance to make sure there was absolutely no trace of him in the apartment whatsoever. He polished all the surfaces, vacuumed the floor and threw out the bag, even taking the time to clean out her refrigerator of all perishables like a normal person who was running as quickly as possible from her future husband would. He took all of it to the trash chute down the hall, confident in his knowledge that trash was collected the next day.

By the time he got back she had started to come to. Not completely, just enough to get her to do what he wanted. He released one arm and convinced her to sign the letters and seal the envelope by holding his gun to her forehead. Not the kindest form of persuasion by far, but definitely the most efficient in the current situation. He could see the fear in her eyes; she knew him well enough to know that when he put his mind to something, it would be done perfectly.

He was hit with a stroke of genius before taking her out to the car and taped her hands together just like that case years before. There had been a kidnapping, and she was trying to show him that a person in the front seat of the car wouldn't have been able to let her arms rest on the back of the seat, and had him tape her up. A little irony never hurt anyone.

The drive back to his place was quiet, mainly because his only passenger was currently bound and gagged in the back underneath a couple of blankets. He hit the button on his visor to make the garage door slide up and pulled in, hitting the button again to close the door on prying eyes.

He helped her out of the car and into his townhouse before opening a door off the side of the kitchen. He led her down the stairs to the basement, never saying a word. The basement was large, the same size as the first and second floors of his home, and usually held only the washer and dryer. Now there was one of those large kennels set up in the center of the room with reinforced seams and very heavy fencing. Inside of the kennel was a small air mattress and a camp toilet, the kind that uses a pneumatic pump for flushing. There was a large eyebolt in the ceiling with a heavy chain attached to it that pooled on the floor inside the kennel. Fastened to the end of the chain was a heavy leather collar that closed securely with a large padlock. Soundproofing foam covered all of the walls and the ceiling.

Outside the kennel a red velvet Victorian loveseat sat between a mahogany bookcase and end table. A floor lamp reached over the loveseat providing it with ample lighting, as there was only a bare bulb hanging over the washer and dryer for illumination. There was a television tucked into a corner behind the kennel with a remote control sitting on top of it. Next to the television was a neatly folded stack of his old dress shirts. He had always imagined how lovely she would be walking around his home in the morning wearing nothing more than that, plus it would keep him from having to remove the collar for her to change clothes.

Sara took all of this in quietly, she was probably still in shock,wondering what he was going to do to her. Would she be tortured or abused or did he have some perverse sexual games planned? She would have asked, but she was still prohibited from speaking due to the gag. He took her to the center of the kennel and fastened the collar around her neck. Next he took a small penknife and cut one strap of her tank top and sliced down the side before removing the gag and leaving the kennel, locking it behind him. He threw one of his shirts into the cage through the slats and climbed back up the stairs, turning off the lights behind him before closing the door.

He waited by the door for a few moments, listening to see if his soundproofing worked, and could only hear soft muffled screaming coming from below. It wasn't enough to be heard inside the house without listening for it, so no neighbors would be alerted. Satisfied, he smiled to himself before heading to the bathroom to shower in preparation for work that evening.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I still don't own CSI, probably because I didn't win the lottery this Saturday. I'm just borrowing the characters and going on a sadistic little journey. Come along with me?

* * *

As soon as he locked the kennel Sara started screaming. 

_Why am I here? _

_Why have you done this to me? _

_What did I do? _

_What do you want from me? _

_What can I do to get out of here? _

_Please don't hurt me!_

_Please let me go!_

_Let me out of here!_

After a while she gave up, her voice hoarse and futile against the soundproofing, figuring she would have to rely on herself to escape from the kennel. She hadn't had much of a chance to look around to see what she could use to her advantage, seeing as he turned off the lights on his way out.

She tried to move her hands but they were still bound together with the duct tape. She ran her lips over the tape, hoping to find the cut edge so she could pull and free her arms. She couldn't find it, and instead started using her teeth to gnaw through the tape. After much biting and tearing she was able to get through the many layers of tape and regain use of her hands.

The first thing she did after she freed her hands was reach up to her mouth and try to get all of the tape bits from between her teeth before stopping to rest on her neck. She could feel the leather; it was very thick and heavy. It was lined with something soft, almost like lambs wool, presumably so she wouldn't chafe her neck. The lock was rather large and cold, it felt like the sort you would put on the outside of your garden shed. She had nothing on her she would be able to use to pick the lock, much less any prior experience in lock picking to help her out.

Sara pulled on the chain, yanking on it, trying to find a weakness in the links or that it was possibly improperly secured, to no avail. There was just enough slack for her to maneuver around the kennel easily, and if she moved the air mattress to just under where the chain descended she could lay her entire body down on it relatively comfortably.

She grabbed his old shirt and put it on, more for comfort against the cold and dank basement than anything else. Not to mention the fact that her top was hanging on by only a strap. She wandered around the cage, feeling along the fencing and trying to get her bearings in the dark. Where the door hinged to the kennel she was slightly able to get her hand out up to the wrist before it got stuck and she had to wiggle it loose. After stubbing her toe on the port-a-pot (she had the habit of being barefoot around the house and wasn't exactly given the chance to grab her shoes before leaving) she sat herself down on the air mattress and started to work on how to fix the situation.

For a moment or two she tried to figure out his motives for these rather severe actions, before realizing that her energy would best be spent on trying to escape, not trying to figure out the man that had puzzled her since the day she met him. There was the lock on the collar, the lock on the kennel, the lock on the door to the basement, and quite possibly an alarm system upstairs with motion detectors. There were quite a few obstacles between her and freedom.

Suddenly it hit her; what was going on. She was being held prisoner in a basement by the man she once loved, idolized, and respected as an expert in his field. An expert in forensics had her chained up in his basement. She felt that she was doomed; there was nothing she could do but try to survive at this point. Her only hope was that he had never seemed like a violent man before, and although she never thought he was the type of man that kidnapped people before now either, she tried to convince herself that he would never actually hurt her.

The dark basement felt as if it were closing in on her. Every movement she made only caused the chain to clink against itself or the top of the kennel. The smell of damp wood, detergent and bleach surrounded her. She felt alone, so very alone, and frightened. About 30 minutes after being left in the basement with only her thoughts, she broke down and began to sob.

Meanwhile, Grissom had finished his shower and was ready for work. He went through to the kitchen and grabbed himself an apple before heading out to the lab. After double checking the door to the basement to assure him that it too was locked, he headed to the garage to start his commute. He had been rehearsing this day in his head for a while now, and was pretty sure he had it down pat and would be able to successfully field any questions the rest of the team might have about Sara's sudden absence. He was actually excited about this part; it would be a sign of how easily his plan would play out.

When all of the team had congregated in the break room before assignments, he informed them that Sara had turned in her resignation letter and would no longer be joining them. Nick and Greg seemed to take it the worst; the look of stunned silence keyed him in to that. Catherine didn't seem surprised; she had been concerned that Sara was burning out ever since the case with the mail-order brides. Warrick looked a little confused, but he was the one that spoke first.

"How long have you known?" There was a look in his eye when he asked this that Grissom had never seen before, he couldn't quite place it.

"Well, she handed it to me the requisite two weeks ago, and asked me to keep it to myself and not let anyone know until she was gone. It's no surprise that she's a private person, and I doubt she would have wanted any big celebrations or anything of that nature, so I'm sure she had her reasons."

It was Nick that asked if he knew where she went. Grissom said that he had no idea; she didn't say. With this, he handed out assignments and sent them all off on their way. Greg just sat there, silently staring at the far wall before Nick put his hand on the young man's shoulder, gently shaking it in an effort to rouse him.

Grissom watched as they all left the building for their assigned cases; he had paired up Nick and Greg for a trick roll (he assumed that Nick really like working those given his history) while allowing Catherine and Warrick to work together on a relatively straight-forward B & E. He stayed back at the lab to look over the resumes that were constantly streaming in to find a replacement for Sara's position. This time he would hire a male, he decided. Women were just too much trouble.

As soon as they got to their vehicle, Greg pulled out his cell phone and started dialing. He didn't think it sounded right, last time he had talked with Sara she seemed perfectly fine and had given no hint that she would be gone. When he finished entering her number in his cell phone and hit "send," he was rewarded with the automated message saying that the number was no longer in service.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm still paying off student loans, I'll be too poor to sue for a while anyway.

* * *

"Something isn't right Nick."

Nick looked over to his passenger and sighed. "I know Greg, it really isn't like her to just take up and leave, but then again, she did it when Grissom called her here after the Holly Gribbs fiasco. Maybe she really doesn't like saying goodbye. I'm sure she'll call us in a day or so at the very least. Anyway, I'm sure Brian will know where she is, we'll just call him later. In the meantime, we have a crime scene to process; the evidence isn't going to spontaneously jump into our collection bags you know."

"Yeah, we might as well get on with it I suppose, but I'm calling Brian later to find out if he knows anything."

* * *

On the other side of town Catherine and Warrick also contemplated the whereabouts of Ms. Sidle. While Catherine blindly assumed that Sara had finally lost it and disappeared into the darkness, Warrick thought otherwise. He felt there was just something not quite right about Grissom's story, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was.

"If she wanted us to know where she was going she would have told us, and who's to say she won't get in touch with us as soon as she's settled in?"

"I don't know. I still say something isn't right Cath. Remember how freaked out he got when she started dating? Don't you think it's a bit odd that he took the news of her leaving that calmly? Granted, he did have a while longer to think about it than we have, but think back through the last few weeks…Were there any signs that she was wanting out of here?"

"No, now that you mention it. Actually, I think I might have heard her and Greg talking about going to see some movie that was opening up this weekend. I doubt she would make plans with him if she was thinking about running off…"

"True. Even overly-obsessed-with-a-case Sara wouldn't do something like that. If nothing else, she's good to her friends. Something about this just isn't sitting right with me." Warrick frowned at his reflection in the car window before grabbing his kit and heading into the store.

* * *

Down in the basement Sara quit crying. She tried to calmly gather her wits about her, taking inventory of her situation. First of all, she had a pretty good idea where she was, she had gotten a decent glance around the room before Grissom left her there. She searched her pockets for something that might be relatively useful. Putting her hand in her jeans pocket, she was pleasantly surprised to find that she hadn't put the lighter away after lighting the candle in her kitchen. At least she had that much going for her. She flicked the lighter, giving up a generous amount of flame and illuminating enough that she could tell the lighter was still halfway full at least. The lighter would probably prove to be much more useful than the seventy five cents she also found in the pocket, so she tried to think of a proper hiding place for it. Pulling a Christopher Walken from _Pulp Fiction_ wasn't a very enticing option in the least. She could leave it in her pocket and hope for the best, but luck wasn't really with her at the moment, so she stashed it beneath the fitted cover of the air mattress.

As soon as she finished straightening out the cover of the air mattress, she heard the door to the basement opening.

"Honey, I'm home," Grissom called down to her from the top of the stairs. "And I brought you something to eat. No meat, are you glad I remembered? I picked up a fruit salad, and have a nice hot thermos of Blue Hawaiian. I ordered some off the internet when I realized you would be staying with me for a while. I know how much you like it…"

At this point Grissom flipped the switch on the wall, temporarily blinding Sara while she adjusted her eyes to the light.

"What am I doing down here Griss? What's going on?" She was incredibly proud of herself and her ability to keep from freaking out. She knew Grissom well enough to know that screaming at him wasn't going to help her much, she was going to try and do this as calmly as possible.

It seemed to Sara that he didn't hear her speaking, as he continued rattling on about sugar packets and Styrofoam coffee cups. So, she decided to repeat her question, only this time a little bit louder.

"Griss, what's going on, why am I down here?"

"Oh honey, don't you remember? We talked about this already. You're down here to keep you safe. And the reason we're keeping you safe just upsets you, so I'm not going to talk about it anymore. Here, have some fruit." He unlocked the kennel and walked in, holding out the bowl of fruit and a cellophane wrapped package containing a spork, a wet nap, and a napkin.

"Griss, have you totally lost your mind? No one is trying to kill me or anything, at least not that I'm aware of, and if they were, would you really need to chain me in your basement? Give me a little credit here; I'm pretty sure I could keep myself just as safe without locking me in a kennel. And what's up with the spork? Those things are useless, I can't even stab a piece of pineapple with one of those things…"

"Don't make any sudden moves honey, I would hate for something to happen and cause you to get yourself hurt." He says as he enters the kennel and places the food down on the floor next to the air mattress, then turns and leaves the kennel, locking it behind him.

"If you show me you can be good, I'll undo the chain around your neck," he said as he looked back at her. "I have to go upstairs and grab some files, I'll be right back."

She watched silently as he left. Turning it over in her mind, she decides to do exactly as he says in the hopes that he will remove the collar. It would be one step closer to freedom, and one less obstacle to overcome in her plan to escape.

"I picked you up some scented lotion, I hope you like lilac, and a cashmere blanket for if you get cold. Now eat your fruit, I don't need you starving while you're down here."

Sara picked up the container holding the fruit and poked at the contents with the utensil, choking down one or two bites of melon. She didn't have much appetite, but she desperately wanted the collar removed. After all the other things she had survived, she certainly wasn't going to let a crazed entomologist destroy her.

She watched as Grissom settled himself onto the sofa, kicking off his shoes and propping his feet up on one end and resting his head on the other. He opened his battered briefcase and started pulling out paperwork and files, humming quietly to himself as he did so.

"Can I have something to do, something to read, maybe at least watch the tv?"

Grissom looked up from his file and said "Now what did I say about being good?"


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I still own nothing. 

Sara could feel the blood draining from her face. She could tell by the gleam in his eyes that this wasn't the Grissom that she had known for almost ten years. Something had changed. There was something else in there, something darker, something so totally unlike himself that it frightened her to think about it. She felt like a gazelle under the glare of the lion. This is not a place to tread lightly.

She looked up to see him slowly laying the file on the table as he stood up and walked towards the kennel. He opened the door and walked in, leaning over to grab the chain close to the leather collar with his left hand and yanking her to her feet. His right hand swung back before striking her cheek with a resounding slap that brought tears to her eyes.

He wiped the tears from her cheek with his thumb before running his fingers through her hair.

"So beautiful, and all mine. You've always existed just for me you know. I'll never let you go. Now be a good girl and stay quiet while I finish signing off on all these cases."

She said nothing in response, which she supposed was the correct answer, as he went back to the loveseat and going through his files.

Oh, inwardly she raged at the gall he had. Be a good girl, indeed. How dare he get away with talking to her like a second class citizen? Although, how dare he get away with a lot of things he had done in the past 24 hours. The rational part of her brain tried to channel the anger into a slightly more useful avenue, like how to get out of there.

From her seat on the mattress, she looked over the corners of the kennel. Where things come together is often where it is the weakest. The chain link fencing was attached to the bar with a metal strap that went around the bar and through the fencing and fastened with a bolt. There was one of these metal straps about every six inches from what she could tell. She squinted at them, afraid to look any closer and possibly rattle the chain, alerting him to what held her attention. She couldn't tell what kind of bolts they were from that distance, and held onto the hope that she might be able to undo them.

* * *

"Ah crap. My phone died. I need to start remembering to plug the thing in. I guess I'll have to wait till we get back and call Brian then." Greg looked over at Nick and gave a little shrug.

"Well, we aren't exactly due back at the lab yet, want to take a detour past Sara's apartment, see if she's at home?"

"Sounds like a plan, if we get off on this exit we can swing around, go two blocks south, and her apartment building will be on the right hand side of the street. We can be there in no time, and no one will be the wiser!"

"True, and I doubt she would already be gone, since we just saw her yesterday. It takes longer than that to move everything out; did you see her spare bedroom the last time we picked her up? It's like a library in there, with all the books, the videos and the CD's in bookshelves stacked to the ceiling… It would take forever to pack all that up. I wonder if she's actually read all of it." Nick was still in a bit of awe that one person could accumulate that much reading material and it not be considered a fire hazard.

"Sara? Of course she's read all of it. She probably just lays her head on one each night and memorizes the thing by osmosis by the time she wakes up in the morning. Hey, what's that guy doing with her car?" Greg looked over at Sara's parking space where a burly guy with a heavy beard and overalls was hooking her car's rear bumper to his tow truck.

Nick shrugged in response to Greg's question as he pulled the SUV in the next parking space and climbed out, walking towards the man with the truck. His name was Henry according to the embroidery on his chest, and worked for Sam's Towing.

"Can I help you fellas," questioned Henry as Greg and Nick approached him.

"Only if you can tell us where you intend to take this car, it belongs to our friend." Nick looked the guy over. He seemed a little rough around the edges, but he looked honest enough.

"Just got a call this morning to pick it up, the keys would be under the back bumper, the title would be in the glove box, and to take it over to the garage for the United Way."

"Do you know who called it in?"

"Nah, I know it was a guy though. Didn't leave a name. Usually all the info we need is on the title, so I didn't worry about it none."

Nick thanked Henry before he and Greg headed towards the apartment building.

"You buy any of that?"

"Well, I don't know of any guys that Sara would let give away her car for her, since Brian's still out of town, and even then I still think she would have done it herself. But I do think the guy was telling us what he knew." Greg opened the door to the building, the blast of the air conditioner hitting them immediately.

"Nick, you still have a key to her place, in case she isn't home?"

"Sure do, but I don't think she'd appreciate it much if we just went barging on in there. How about we try knocking first?"

"Yeah, I guess that does sound like the logical route…" Greg pounded on her front door and peeked through the peephole looking for signs of life. "I don't think she's home."

"Greg, you can't tell jack squat from looking the wrong way through a peephole."

"Yeah, but I can tell if there are any lights on, and it sure looks dark in there. Should we go in?"

"I don't think so. I still don't think she'd appreciate it if we went in."

"But what if something has happened to her?"

"Greg, I'm sure she's fine, she just probably went to the store for something and will be back soon enough. We can check back after shift."

The duo arrived back at the lab the same time Warrick and Catherine pulled in from their scene. Neither pair had a very involved case, so they each dropped off their samples in the various labs and met back up in the break room.

"Why do you think Grissom left early?" Catherine had gone looking for him, only to have Judy inform her that he left about 30 minutes after they had at the beginning of shift.

"No idea. I will never claim to understand that man," Warrick replied as he shook his head.

"I think it has something to do with Sara," Greg muttered as he brought the coffee pot over to refill their mugs.

"Greg, you know what Grissom says about assuming" admonished Nick.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, it makes an ass out of you and me, but I still think something's fishy here. She never would have left without telling me."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: Contrary to popular belief, I do not own any of these CSI characters. If I did, I sure wouldn't have them do this, because all of my profits would disappear.

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to get this up. Sometimes, real life sucks.

* * *

Catherine was surprised to find that Grissom had decided to take a week of vacation when she arrived at the lab the next night. She walked into the break room to find the rest of the guys sitting at the table, talking quietly amongst themselves. When they noticed her standing there with assignment slips they stopped and looked up questioningly. 

"Griss is taking some vacation time. I guess I'll be in charge for a few days, and I'll try to not abuse my power" she said with a wink.

"What? Grissom willingly taking vacation? Maybe he is taking Sara's absence a little harder than we thought. Hey Greg, tell her what Brian said when you called him" Nick said.

Greg looked down before beginning. "Brian said she left him. Sent him a letter via UPS dumping him. He was pretty ticked off, he went on about how she didn't have the cajones to say it to his face, and resorted to mailing him a note and the ring. He ranted for a while, rambled on about how he knew deep down that she loved the "bug guy," he always kind of thought he was her second choice, her habit of leaving the tv on when she went to sleep drove him nuts anyway, he went on and on…Needless to say he wasn't much help in finding out where she went."

Catherine snorted, "Wow, Sara sure does have great choice in men. No offense Greg, but if the guy was that much of an ass about it and not even concerned that she was missing, it's a pretty good thing she broke up with him."

"Wow. Who would have thought?" Nick shook his head before continuing. "Men like him give the rest of us good guys a bad name."

"So, has anyone heard from her yet?" Warrick asked.

"Nope."

"Her cell just gives me a recording when I call."

"Nothing here either."

"Well, lets get on with assignments then, there's only one, DB with suspicious circumstances. Let's head out."

* * *

Back at Grissom's townhouse, Grissom hummed to himself as he gathered various items about the house. He had already drawn a hot bath in the garden tub in the master bathroom and filled it with luxurious oils and bubbles. He smiled as he pulled fresh towels out of the dryer where he had them warming up. After folding them carefully, he took them upstairs and into the bathroom. 

He went back downstairs to fetch Sara. He smiled to himself; she had been so good the previous day. She had stayed still and quiet like he had told her to, and was keeping her temper in check. He could tell by looking at her that she wasn't pleased with the situation, and had decided to reward her. She bit her lip and frowned slightly when he came back to the kennel, but said nothing as he entered. He noticed her smile slightly after he fished the keys to her collar out of his pocket and opened the lock. She immediately raised her hands to rub the skin that had until recently been covered by the leather.

"I have a surprise for you upstairs, but if you try anything funny you're coming back down here to rot alone for a few days. Understand? Don't forget I'm bigger than you and licensed to carry a firearm."

Sara only nodded in agreement as she allowed herself to be led up the stairs and towards the bathroom. He shut the door behind them as she took in the room. There was a water closet, a separate shower stall and a large filled tub in the corner. He handed her a robe and gestured to the water closet, telling her that she could change in there with privacy. When she came back out he directed her to the tub and averted his eyes until he was certain she had slipped beneath the bubbles.

Grissom pulled a brush out of a drawer in the vanity and started slowly brushing her hair, gently untangling her brown locks and quietly reveling in the pleasant intimacy of the activity. When he was satisfied, he reached behind him and pulled out a large pitcher, filled it with water from the bath before tipping her head back and letting the water run down her hair. He repeated the process until he had soaked her hair before reaching for the shampoo bottle. He squeezed out a large glob of the stuff into his palm, rubbing it between his hands before lathering up her hair and massaging her scalp. He took his time, enjoying every moment before using the pitcher once again to rinse out all of the bubbles.

When he finished with her hair, he grabbed a plush washcloth and dipped it into the water before adding a good sized dollop of lilac scented body wash. He started with her back, running the cloth in gentle circles, moving on to her arms before heading to the other end of the tub and pulling one foot out of the water, washing each leg up to mid thigh before handing her the wash cloth so that she could take care of the more intimate areas herself.

Sara took all of it in quietly, angry with herself for being able to enjoy the pampering. She was initially surprised with the tenderness he was suddenly displaying, knowing that if he would have asked her instead of abducting her it would have been a heavenly experience. She was feeling a little foggy, she assumed that he had slipped something in her tea before taking her up here. Her arms and legs were feeling like lead and her eyelids felt so heavy she could barely keep them opened. Until she figured out how to escape it was best to go along with whatever it was he planned on doing. She willed herself to relax and think about what the plan for escape should be. The previous night after Grissom had retired for the evening she had tried pulling the underwire out of her bra and picking the lock with that, and only succeeded in ruining it and reaffirming her inability to pick locks. She had even tried to use one of the coins in her pocket as a makeshift screwdriver, but the bolts on the kennel were fastened too tightly and she was unable to make any headway.

Her eyes snapped back open as she felt his hand around her ankle once more. She watched as he lathered he calf with cream and began carefully shaving them. By the time he had gotten to the knee on the first leg, the doorbell rang, startling him and causing him to nick her knee slightly. After quickly kissing the wound and apologizing, he stood and dried his hands off with a towel. As he left the room, he warned her against trying to get out of the tub and shut the door behind him.

Catherine rang the doorbell of Grissom's townhouse again impatiently. After sending the boys off on the 419, she had found a couple of papers that required his signature and decided to use that as an excuse to drop by and make sure he was ok. She knew he cared about Sara more than he cared to admit and feared his vacation was merely an excuse to privately drink his memories of her away.

He finally opened the door to her with a gruff "What?"

Her mouth fell open as she took in his appearance. He was wearing jeans and a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. The entire front of him was soaked, making him look like a very disadvantaged participant in a wet t-shirt contest. Quickly sidestepping him and elbowing her way in, she thrust the paperwork into his hands. She blatantly ignored his attempts to prevent her from going any farther, instead heading straight back to the kitchen to make herself a drink like she always did.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: I still own nothing even remotely related to these characters. Please don't sue me.

* * *

"What the hell is all that stuff?" Catherine asked as she glanced down the stairs that led off the kitchen. "I've never seen this door open before, and you have a giant cage, antique furniture, and women's toiletries? Wow Griss, I always knew you were a bit eccentric, but this is just plain weird…"

Grissom quickly reached around her to close the door. "It's none of your concern Catherine," he started before she cut him off, effectively halting his actions.

"Oh really, like when has that ever stopped me? And when did you buy a straightening iron? You don't straighten your hair, actually, Sara is the only person I can think of off the top of my head that straightens her hair." She paused for a moment before continuing, "Oh my God Gil, you didn't?"

"Catherine, what I do or do not do in my home is none of your concern" he said testily as he noticed her pulling out her cell and dialing. He moved to swipe the phone from her hands, but only succeeded in knocking her off balance, causing her to tumble down the steps. She landed with a loud thump and a crack.

"Oh shit." He wondered what he should do now; this is where the mistakes are always made. Things don't go completely according to plan; you cannot count on the variables inherent in human interaction. He ran down the stairs after her, reaching his arm out and feeling along the side of her neck for a pulse. She was still breathing, but that left him with a different set of problems.

He knew that if he called 911, they would all be tromping through his house to come get her, and it would be difficult at best to explain a large kennel and chain just set up in his basement. He didn't have enough time to dismantle everything if he was going to go that route. Not to mention the highly sedated unwilling occupant of his bathtub upstairs, and that would really be hard to explain. At the same time, he couldn't really just leave her laying down there like a broken rag doll forever either.

"Dammit Catherine, you always come around sticking your nose in my business and messing things up. Why did you have to come over here anyway?"

* * *

Upstairs Sara had heard Catherine come into the house, and though her limbs felt like lead and her mind was blurry, she tried to roll out of the tub. After a couple of tries, she was able to get her arms over the side. It took all of her strength, but she was able to pull herself over the edge. After the top half was out, it didn't take much more effort to get the lower half of her body out.

She didn't pause to wrap a towel around her body, there were far worse fates than Catherine seeing her naked, and crawled her way to the door. She reached up and opened the door, and called out as loud as she could for Catherine.

"Catherine really can't help you now honey," said Grissom as he climbed up the stairs a few moments later. He pulled her soggy form from the floor before wrapping her in a bathrobe.

"We can't have you catching a chill," was the last thing she heard him say.

* * *

"Brown," Warrick answered as his cell phone rang. He heard no response, and had almost hung up when he could have sworn he heard Grissom saying something that sounded like swearing and some crashing noises. He knew the call was from Catherine from the Caller ID, and it wasn't like her to be so silent when she phoned.

"Catherine?" Warrick waited, while Greg and Nick looked at him, easily seeing the concern on their friend's face. It was then that he heard it, another person, a woman, yelling 'Catherine' as well, and it kind of sounded like Sara. Then he heard Grissom swearing and muttering again. But still no Catherine.

"Uhm, guys, I think something might be a bit off over there at the Grissom house. It's a call from Catherine, but all I hear is Grissom cussing and I could have sworn I heard Sara calling Catherine's name in the background."

"Here, let me see that" Nick said as he grabbed the phone and put it up to his ear. Immediately he heard Grissom telling someone that Catherine wouldn't be able to help them. "This doesn't sound good; I think he just said Catherine can't help you anymore?"

"What are we sitting around here discussing this for? Let's get the hell out of here and see what's going on!" Greg grabbed the keys from the table and started heading out the door, not waiting for Warrick and Nick to follow.

They all tumbled into the Tahoe, with Warrick behind the wheel. The connection on the phone was kept open and on speakerphone, listening to see if they heard any additional dialogue that might help prepare them for what exactly was going on. None of them said a word through the trip for fear that they would miss something on the line, though it was now eerily silent, save for the occasional sound of movement and quietly indecipherable mumblings.

Making record time, they pulled into the drive at Grissom's townhouse and parked beside Catherine's car, with neither Nick nor Greg waiting for Warrick to put the car in park before jumping out and running to the front door. Nick arrived first, pulling open the door forcefully and allowing Greg to run in as he did so, with Warrick close behind. The trio was quite shocked at the sight that greeted them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. Suing me is pointless.

Standing in the middle of the living room stood Catherine and Sara, holding on to one another tightly as they cried tears of relief, giving comfort to one another after their harrowing ordeal. Sara's hair was wet and soaking through Catherine's shirt, while Catherine herself had streams of mascara running down her face. Catherine's arm was hanging limply by her side at an odd angle, her face was bruised and her lip busted open and bleeding slightly. Neither woman noticed the men in the doorway at first.

Greg broke the silence. "What? Sara? Catherine? Where have you been Sara? Where's Grissom? What happened?"

Nick and Warrick rushed forward to the women as they broke from one another's embrace, Warrick going to Catherine and taking her injured arm in his hand as he looked over her obvious injury. Nick noticed that Sara was having trouble standing on her own accord, so he walked her back towards the sofa and sat her down carefully.

"Calm down and tell us what happened if you could; Catherine, I think you broke your arm" Warrick quietly stated.

"If her arm's broken we should probably take her to the emergency room, and I think Sara just might have been drugged, she's having trouble holding her head up." Nick looked over his friend with a mixture of confusion and concern.

"Can we just get out of here? I have a feeling that Sara would be really happy to never step foot in this townhouse ever again, so let's just, I don't want to be here anymore either. I don't know why she's so groggy or what's wrong with her. She was like this when I found her outside the bathroom upstairs. Grissom was wrapping her in a bathrobe when I found her." Catherine glanced up the stairs before heading toward the front door with Warrick.

"Wait, why was Grissom, what the, a bathrobe? This doesn't make any sense," Greg said in disbelief, the surreal situation trying to make sort itself out in his head as he helped Nick get Sara out to the car.

"We're ok now Greg, that's what really matters. I believe, and when Sara fully comes around she can verify what was really going on, but I think Grissom kidnapped Sara and had her in his basement. I didn't really stop to ask him what his particular plans were before I whacked him over the head with one of his insect displays from the wall. I, I think I might have killed him." Catherine's eyes started tearing again as the events of the day began replaying in her head, her eyes going wide and her face going pale. "Oh my god, I killed my friend. All the things he did for me, and I killed him. What have I done?" Warrick wrapped his arms around his friend, trying to give her the comfort she needed while being mindful of her arm.

"Well, it's definitely a crime scene now; I'll call Brass and wait here while you guys take them to the hospital to get checked out." Greg pulled out his cell phone and started dialing the familiar number, "go on, go on already, but make sure you keep me informed."

"You sure about that Greg" Warrick asked as the young CSI nodded, "then I'll make sure you are updated as soon as we know something."

"Yeah, I'm the rookie, comparatively speaking, so the guys with seniority get to escort the ladies to the hospital. Take care of them. I've already lost Sara once this week; I don't want to lose her again." Greg forced a strained smile on his face, trying to stay optimistic in the wake of the terror Sara and Catherine must have experienced. He could tell Catherine was going into shock, and Sara looked almost as coherent as an extra in a zombie movie. He knew that more probably happened than she was telling; you don't break your arm hitting someone over the head and it certainly doesn't bust open your lip.

Nick looked over at the young man and nodded appreciatively in his direction as he eased Sara into the back of the SUV and fastened her in with the safety belt. He knew Greg would have preferred to be with them as they took their friends in to get checked over, and a feeling of pride washed over him. Their little lab rat was growing up.

Greg watched as they took off, and gave them a slight wave as they disappeared down the street. Looking back to the phone, he hit send.

"Brass, we got a problem over here. Found Catherine with a broken arm and Sara drugged and barely conscious at Grissom's townhouse. You know where it is? Ok, I'll be waiting here for you. Oh, and Catherine said Grissom is dead, just so you're prepared."

Greg walked back inside the townhouse as he waited for Brass to bring in the cavalry. Surprisingly, the living room showed no sign of a struggle besides a few jostled framed insect displays. He looked down the hall toward the kitchen and spotted Catherine's cell phone laying next to the breakfast bar. As he bent down to pick it up and end the call, he felt someone behind him. He looked up in time to see Grissom standing over him.

"Uh, hi Grissom, uhm, how are you doing?" Greg straightened up quickly in his surprise.

"Did you take her?" Grissom growled at Greg, ""I said, did you take her? She's mine, and you know it."

"Take who? I don't know what you're talking about." Greg backed around to the other side of the counter, seeing his boss in an obviously disturbed state of mind.

"Greg, Greg, Greg. I thought you were a little more appreciative of all the things I have done for you. I got you out of the lab and into the field, even though you didn't have the proper training and there were way more experienced applicants out there. I took you under my wing. I tolerated your antics. And this is how you repay me? You take what is mine and go through my house like you own it?" Grissom walked closer to the counter and rummaged through a drawer.

"Uh, Grissom, sorry, I didn't know it was yours." Greg backed into the far wall of the kitchen, trying to think fast as to how to get out of the situation.

"Good thing I didn't toss all the ether, I had a feeling I'd need it." Grissom said as he quickly pulled something out of the drawer and rushed towards Greg. Before he knew it, Greg was on the floor, unconscious.

* * *

Brass and Officer McDaniel approached the front of the townhouse with trepidation, uncertain as to what they would find. After stepping over the threshold, they heard a slight moaning coming from the direction of the kitchen, and saw Greg trying to sit up on the floor, rubbing his head. 

"What happened Greg?" Brass came towards the young man, the concern evident in his eyes as he took in the scene.

Greg gave the detective a quick rundown of the events as he knew them, and finished with telling him about Grissom pulling something from a drawer and barreling towards him right before he blacked out.

"So where is Grissom now? McDaniel, go check the rest of the house, I'll take the basement here." Brass drew his gun as he cautiously made his way down the stairs in the basement. He was astounded by the setup he saw in the middle of the floor, the cage and the chain, but he found no evidence of the man hiding in any of the corners of the room. There were simply no real hiding places in here, just one open room.

"Hey Brass, you better come up here and look at this." Office McDaniel called down to the detective. "No sign of Dr. Grissom, and I figured we would find a room full of bugs, but this is, uhm, wow."

Greg managed to shake the cobwebs from his head long enough to follow Brass up the stairs where McDaniel was waiting outside the second door on the right side of the hallway.

"I was just checking in the rooms when I saw this." McDaniel opened the door to the room. "I figured you wouldn't believe me unless you saw it for yourself."

Greg and Brass looked in the room, their mouths simultaneously dropping open. There were the expected aquariums filled with hissing cockroaches, an ant farm, and a corner of the room netted off with mosquito netting and filled with butterflies flitting around some potted plants. But what was really disconcerting was the corner opposite the butterflies.

A collage of photos surrounded a large picture of the same butterflies that were in the netting, depicting what was labeled as the "Sara Longwing (_Heliconius sara_)". The photos were all of Sara, and some looked rather old. A photo of her graduation from Harvard, one of a much younger Grissom with his arm around Sara in front of the Golden Gate Bridge, and there was even an old newspaper clipping showing a very young Sara standing in front of a house staring blankly at a swarm of police cars. A few shots of her with Nick and Warrick, one of her with Greg in a swami hat, but most of them were obviously snapped at different crime scenes. Shots of Sara stooped over a body, one here and there of her dusting something for prints, and a rather disturbing photo featuring her and a man whose face had been scratched out of the picture.

Brass turned to Officer McDaniel. "Do we have any idea where he is?"

"No, nothing evident so far. The car is still in the garage and I checked all the rooms up here. He couldn't have gotten far on foot; it didn't take us that long to get here."

"Don't underestimate the man, McDaniel."

"Wait, was Catherine's car out front?" Greg looked at the men as they shook their head. "I bet he took Catherine's car then. Her purse was laying on the kitchen counter when I first walked back there, and they left in the Tahoe."

"I'll put out an APB for her car. Shit. I never would have thought this of him. And to think, I trusted him with my life…" Brass shook his head in disbelief at the events unfolding around him. "I'll call Ecklie and have him send out a team from the day shift to go through all this. Greg, as soon as some backup gets here, I'll take you over to the hospital and check on Sara and Catherine after we get you checked out"

* * *

As the following weeks went by, things slowly returned to normal. Catherine had her arm set and was restricted to the lab for a while, and Sara put her life back together. She did have to buy a new car, but she was able to straighten everything else out with a few phone calls. Greg told Sara about Brian's reaction, and though she was disappointed, she was a little relieved to find out now rather than after the wedding what kind of man he really was. 

Catherine and Sara forged a strong friendship as they supported one another in the wake of the incident. The guys kept a close eye on Sara, both taking turns staking out her apartment after she returned home. The guys from the lab also took turns, even Hodges. After a while, she shared an apartment with Nick, living together as roommates, as after everything that had happened to each of them they realized they didn't want to live alone anymore. Nick was relieved, both because he wouldn't have to worry about Grissom taking Sara as much if he was there and because it made him feel safe knowing there was someone else around. But he wasn't going to tell anyone that.

Greg was able to do the ultimate "I told you so" dance in the break room after everything was settled. Everyone laughed at him, thankful to have some levity.

Catherine's car was discovered near the Mexican border a few days later. Grissom was never heard from again.


End file.
